


The Other White Stuff

by eeyore9990



Series: December Gift Fic Spree [20]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Full Shift Werewolves, M/M, Snow, Snow Day, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Wolf Derek, Wolf Derek Hale, actual puppy derek hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 12:36:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2812217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeyore9990/pseuds/eeyore9990
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There must have been a veritable blizzard overnight, because the tree limbs were nearly touching the ground and the bottom few porch steps were completely covered.  The entire world outside their front door looked like some demented Hallmark holiday card and Stiles just wanted to slam the door closed on all of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Other White Stuff

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DevilDoll](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DevilDoll/gifts).



> December Fic Spree, Day 20: Gift for DevilDoll!
> 
> Happy December 20th!

"Stiles!"

The hissed whisper wound through Stiles’ consciousness, incorporating itself into his dream. Smacking his lips, he pulled his pillow tighter to his chest, rolled his hips against the mattress, and mumbled, “Mmmm, yeah. Say my name, baby.”

In his dream, naked and splayed out, Derek pushed up onto one elbow and crooked a finger at him, expression intense and smouldering. “Stiles!” he hissed again. Then, because dream!Derek was a bit of an odd duck, he crawled toward Stiles all sexy and stalkery and said, “Wake up! It snowed.”

A hand shaking his shoulder snapped the remaining strands of his dream, making him flail around until he was fully seated, his heart beating out of his chest. Stiles looked around him, narrow-eyed and pissed off as only someone yanked from a very lovely dream can be. His gaze zeroed in on the culprit — Derek, of course, though the dream-ruiner was rude enough to have _clothes_ on his body. Swinging his pillow and smacking it into Derek’s stupidly-eager face, Stiles snapped, “I liked you better when I was asleep!”

"Did you hear me?" Derek asked, batting the pillow away and spitting out a bit of fluff. "Stiles. It _snowed_. Come on, wake up. Let’s go outside.”

Slowly lowering his abused pillow to his lap, Stiles tugged the blankets up over his shoulders, instantly chilled just from the _idea_ of snow. Feeling horror building in him, Stiles let out a shaky breath, huddling in on himself. “Snow. You want me to go outside. In the _snow_. The cold, wet, slippery white stuff that turns to slush and mud and generally makes life miserable for _everyone_ except, possibly, school children.”

Yanking away the blankets in one quick tug, Derek threw a crooked, triumphant grin at Stiles and said, “As you _are_ a school child, I don’t see why you’re bitching. No, wait. That’s a lie. I’ve _met_ you; of course you’re bitching. But still. Snow! Get dressed.” Looking down at where Stiles was curling his toes against the very _thought_ of going outside, Derek tilted his head and said, “You might want to double up on socks. Now hurry, before all the neighborhood kids trample through it and ruin it.”

Reaching toward Derek’s side of the bed, Stiles grabbed the end of the blanket that Derek’s manhandling hadn’t yanked from the bed, and flipped it over his legs. “Point the first, I am a PhD candidate, not a school child. Point the second, my father has worked for the Beacon Hills Sheriff’s Department for nearly twenty years. Do you _know_ how many accident sites I’ve been to when he was called in during off-duty hours to help with pile-ups on the interstate because of this fluffy white crap you want me to risk life and limb in?” When Derek tried to get at the sheets and blankets again, Stiles snarled at him and yanked back, ripping them from his grip and leaving Derek blinking in surprise down at his empty hands.

"Derek," Stiles continued, a hollow sort of sorrow filling him. "It’s been a good run. It really has; who knew we could be married for six whole months without killing each other? But I’m afraid we’re going to have to get a divorce. As great as the sex is, our differences are simply too…"

"Irreconcilable?" Derek offered, biting his lower lip and obviously attempting to look grave, though the way his eyes were lit up with humor rather ruined the effect.

"Yes. That. Goodbye, Derek." Then, because the sex really _was_ that good, Stiles offered around a yawn, “Look me up in April. Maybe we can try one of those May-December romances I keep hearing about.” Flopping back down on the mattress, Stiles wriggled around until he was comfortable and pulled the covers back over his head.

Stiles heard Derek sigh, probably because the dork was trying to figure out whether or not to correct Stiles’ notion of the definition of a May-December romance — pfft, like Stiles didn’t have an active AO3 account with over a thousand bookmarks — before his soft tread moved away from the bed and out of the room. Stiles wanted to feel bad, he really did, but he was so warm and comfortable under the heavy blankets that he couldn’t quite summon the necessary angst. 

He was almost asleep again when something wriggled under the blanket and touched him. Something cold and wet and…vaguely whiskery. Sneezing loudly when one of the whiskers tickled his nose, Stiles groaned and pushed the blankets down just enough to uncover his eyes and _glared_. “Derek. No.”

Derek, of course, didn’t say anything, just tilted his head and lifted one paw, setting it down on the bed right next to Stiles’ face. A length of thin leather was clasped gently in his teeth and his tail thumped once against the floor, hopeful.

"No."

Derek’s other paw joined the first and he heaved his upper body onto the bed, leaving his lower half on the floor. Setting his muzzle on his paws, he turned soulful blue eyes on Stiles and whuffed a question.

Kicking his feet, Stiles let out a loud noise of complaint and rolled over, giving Derek his back — and hiding himself from those eyes before his determination shredded and floated away on the wind. Sticking his head under Derek’s pillow, Stiles whimpered. “No?”

A low, unhappy whine began, dragging on and on until Stiles sat up, covering his face with his hands. “That’s not _fair_ , dammit! You know I can’t say no to you when you’re like this. It’s emotional blackmail, that’s what this is.” 

Climbing fully onto the bed, Derek dropped the leash from his mouth and moved forward, looking a little uncertain as the bed moved under his paws. When he was close enough, he licked at Stiles’ chin before dropping his head to sniff appreciatively at the blankets covering Stiles’ lap. Letting his tongue loll out of his mouth, Derek woofed and pawed at Stiles’ knee.

"Oh, you bet your sweet ass you’re gonna owe me a blow job after this. You’re gonna owe me all the blow jobs, mister. You hear me?" Picking up the leash, he shook it in Derek’s face. " _All_ of them!” 

Flinging back the covers, Stiles got out of bed, grumbling the whole time, and stomped over to his dresser. Yanking drawers open and slamming them closed, he found as many layers as his wardrobe contained — not as many as he actually wanted for the ridiculousness to which he was about to subject himself, but probably more than he needed. By the time he was finished winding one of Isaac’s pilfered scarfs around his neck, Derek was nearly prancing by the front door, leash once more in his mouth and claws clicking loudly against the hardwood.

Muttering under his breath, Stiles braced himself and pulled the door open, letting out a pained sound when he saw just how much of the stupid white stuff was laying around. There must have been a veritable blizzard overnight, because the tree limbs were nearly touching the ground and the bottom few porch steps were completely covered. The entire world outside their front door looked like some demented Hallmark holiday card and Stiles just wanted to slam the door closed on all of it. 

But before he could, Derek’s shoulder nudged the back of his thighs and Stiles huffed out a sigh, snapping, “Alright, already! I’m going, I’m going!”

Of course, because this was his life, no sooner had Stiles stepped off the front porch than a huge glob of snow dislodged itself from the roof and landed with a splat on top of his head, slithering down under his jacket collar and making him shriek from the icy horror of it all. Derek just bounded forward, barking joyfully, obviously not at all concerned for him, and fucking _dived_ head first into a snowdrift, tunnelling through it and bounding up to do it all over again.

Stiles watched, absolutely appalled, as Derek frollicked in the snow, destroying the entire yard as he rolled and played. After a good fifteen minutes of Stiles standing there freezing and miserable, the gray skies unleashed another torrent of the abominable stuff, sending Derek into another tizzy of excitement. 

It was almost cute, watching a large black wolf with snow matting its fur, leap at snowflakes, snapping and barking at them and generally just making a horrible racket. Not that Stiles would _ever_ , under pain of torture, admit to such a thing. He couldn’t possibly allow himself to _encourage_ Derek’s behavior after all, or he’d be expected to do this _every_ time it snowed, which just… No.

No.

Absolutely not.

By the time Derek had worn himself out, Stiles was a miserably shivering wreck with at least thirty minutes of usable blackmail footage on his phone. “You m-m-might,” he said through chattering teeth, “get out of the blow job after all. I’m pretty sure my balls froze solid about five minutes ago and if we ever see my dick again, it won’t be worth measuring.”

Derek ducked his head, ears flattening in apology, and brushed up against Stiles’ side. Giving his body a mighty, snow-flinging shake on the front porch, Derek waited patiently for Stiles’ numb fingers to get the door open and then he followed Stiles in. As soon as the door was closed, Derek shifted back to human. A huge smile stretched his lips and he began to unwrap Stiles from the multitude of layers he was currently smothered under.

Rubbing Stiles’ cold, red nose with his own, Derek slid his hands under the waistband of Stiles’ pants and began pushing him backward toward their room. “Wanna see if we can find your balls to warm them up?” he asked, dark lashes fanning across his cheeks as he blinked, his lips curving up in a teasing grin. 

Burying his nose behind Derek’s ear in an attempt to defrost it, Stiles sniffled and considered Derek’s offer. It was sad to note that even frozen solid, his dick wasn’t immune to Derek’s charms. “Yes. And then you’re bringing me hot cocoa in bed after. With tiny marshmallows.”

"All the tiny marshmallows for you, baby," Derek murmured, tackling Stiles to their bed. "You earned them."

"Damn right I did."


End file.
